They are awfully thoughtful, though the thoughtfulness does frequently give way--sometimes you feel with a sigh of relief--to the technical liberation of jig and reel.

Maybe now he can sleep a little less on floors and spend more time making gorgeous albums like this. Please.

So far, so Mogwai. However, a few surprises have been chucked in, too.

Mostly, though, this lingered-over comeback offers sumptuous returns for those prepared to linger over it.

Good songs, largely, if songs broadly governed by the imperative to “heal”: a worthy intention, for sure, but fluffed up massively in a compressed space like this, also a rather stifling one.

Crain’s third album has proved something of a breakthrough in the US.

As we glide through Post Tropical the tracks steadily grow bigger, with gospel-style harmonies and languid slide guitar lending texture to create a dreamy, if cold, soundscape that may leave some with a sense of frustration, as if we are building towards an ever-shifting point on the horizon.

Even looking backwards, Springsteen finds ways to light the road ahead.

Drake is revealed as a serious artist whose gossamer-light songs can sound painfully vulnerable, and there's more than a bit of black dog in the poems.

Those who endured Williams’s recent X Factor performance need not fear: this brassy sequel to 2001’s big-band LP Swing When You’re Winning, is actually rather listenable.

The result is refreshing but also a bit boring, although things get interesting towards the end.

Funny, warm, eloquent, dynamic, oddly soulful and technically delicious. An unremitting joy.

The very home-made, amateur-sounding production, coupled with what was obviously a fully formed musical vision, carries great charm and will appeal to fans of Scottish indie jazz weirdo Bill Wells as much as funkers, although only the first two of eight tracks excel.

Simon Green, aka Bonobo, has created a beguiling and compelling narrative.

The intricate interweaving of guitar and ngoni juxtaposed with the bright, clear backing vocals makes for a sound that’s dynamic and assertive.

It’s depressing to find more of the disco-tooled super-producer [will.i.am] same here, allied to faintly atypical ballads that, nonetheless, add little to Spears’s synthetic sex-doll sheen.

Mostly No End sounds like pretty much anyone noodling about in their shed.

There are too many plodding ballads, sentimental on the piano and heavy on the cymbals.

[Since I Saw You Last] falls below Barlow’s best--“Patience”, “Rule the World”--at just the point when he needed to up his game.

Not one for Bon Iver fans, but the kid's got something.

Truth is, the release of Tin Star should set Ortega’s adopted home town alight.

Bar that electric guitar, this is the kind of music that you wouldn’t be surprised to hear on an old piece of 78rpm vinyl rescued from a car-boot sale (which is, of course, meant as a compliment).

As an exercise in expanded range, Shangri La is too diverse and distinct to dismiss.

The music? It is of course exciting, youthful, dazzling in its energy and simplicity.... However, you may feel, given the track listing, that you have been this way before...

There are overworked beatscapes and confounding lyrics, sure--but also multiple sublime, fully formed songs.

Throwaways (“Jewels n’ Drugs”) and power-ballad (“DOPE”) digressions weigh heavy on the pacing, but the arch “Mary Jane Holland” and “Swine” occupy livelier turf.

The constant here is Arthur’s voice: genuinely soulful and able to switch from MC to Marvin at the flick of a falsetto.

This feels like a wearisome exercise in reasserting his market appeal.